


In Which Arthur Has Claws, Knowledge, And Surprising Reactions

by fizzyblogic (phizzle)



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Crack, M/M, kittenfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-14
Updated: 2010-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-06 07:01:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phizzle/pseuds/fizzyblogic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin accidentally turns himself and Arthur into kittens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which Arthur Has Claws, Knowledge, And Surprising Reactions

**Author's Note:**

> For More Joy Day 2010. I hope it brings you glee.

It's all gone really, horribly, terribly wrong.

All Merlin tries to do is save them from the trio of heavily-armoured knights bearing down on them, but suddenly he's several feet below where he should be, and everything smells different.

A long way above him, three helmets bend down in silence, then straighten up to look at the women. Morgana grabs Arthur's sword from where it fell – hold on, _fell_? – and tosses Merlin's to Gwen. Merlin decides to get out of the way when a metal boot almost crushes his face; moving is strange, instinctive, and it isn't until he's safely in the roots of a tree that he realises what happened.

He's a kitten.

The woods smell stronger, a hundred different scents crowding in giving him all sorts of information about the place, and his tiny body is covered in fur. He has _whiskers_. He wonders what happened to Arthur.

Morgana runs two knights through in quick succession, and Gwen stabs the other in a weak point in his armour. All three fall to the ground, not far from what Merlin realises are his and Arthur's clothes. He gives a small mew, just to see, and then he hears an answering one.

Well. This just got worse.

A very, very angry-looking pale yellow kitten climbs over the root Merlin is sitting next to. "Me_owww_," he says.

"Arthur?" Merlin replies. The kitten's eyes are blue, and really only one person can look _that_ annoyed with him. "Erm. I'm sorry."

All he can hear are meows. This is unfortunate. Morgana and Gwen are examining the abandoned shirts, picking them up, and starting to call their names. Merlin has to act fast. He holds one paw out – oh hey, he has brown fur, it's sort of like his jacket – anyway, he holds a paw out, and feels the familiar tingle through his tiny body. He didn't use an incantation to do this, just directionless panicked magic, so he tries just pouring it all into turning them back.

He opens his eyes. "Merlin," Arthur hisses, and oh. He's still a kitten, but he's not mewing now.

"Um. Arthur," Merlin says, trying to be nonchalant. He looks down. "I still have paws."

"Clearly," Arthur replies, voice dry. Merlin swallows. "You have a _lot_ of explaining to do."

"Ah. Well. You see – Morgana!" he calls, relieved as he hears them moving away. "Morgana, we're here! Gwen!"

Gwen's face appears around the tree. "Where are you?" she calls, at her head height.

"Down here," Merlin shouts up, and Gwen looks down. "Yes, hello. We're here."

Her eyes go wide. "Morgana! I've found them."

"Where did they go, and why are they naked?" Morgana asks, as she walks up. She peers around the tree, and Merlin waves a paw.

"Hello," he says. Arthur is silent. Merlin can hear him seething, though.

"Oh." Morgana blinks. "Was – was one of those knights a sorcerer?"

"I don't know," Arthur snaps, "why don't you ask _Merlin_?" He would be crossing his arms if he could, but they don't bend that way. So he's just sitting, tail wrapped around his paws and flicking against them discontentedly.

Merlin shifts. "Er. No, I don't – I don't think they were."

"And?" Arthur prompts. Anger is bouncing off him in waves.

"And, er, I am," Merlin admits, doing his best to make himself smaller. "I was trying to help. Get them away from us."

Arthur rounds on him, puffing up his fur and whipping his tail from side to side. "And how does 'get attacking knights away from us' become '_turn us into kittens_'?"

"I _panicked_, okay?" Merlin shouts back. "It was sudden! They came out of nowhere! I didn't even have time to think of a spell!"

Gwen has edged around by this point, sitting near the root, holding their clothes in her lap. "There's no use shouting at him, Arthur, it wasn't his fault," she says. Above them somewhere, Morgana gives a chuckle.

"Wasn't his _fault_?" Arthur explodes, smacking one paw against the tree and trying to hit Merlin repeatedly with his tail. "He _turned us into kittens_."

"Yes, and he can turn you back. Can't he?" Gwen asks, looking hopefully at Merlin.

Merlin backs away from Arthur's tail. "Well, I've been trying. I managed to make us speak! That's something."

"Oh, yes, very useful," Arthur hisses, starting to pace back and forth. "We can all go back to Camelot and explain to my father how his son is now a cat, and he'll need a smaller axe."

Merlin sat down heavily, feeling sick. "You're not going to – you wouldn't tell Uther, would you? He'd – he'd _kill_ me."

"If you don't turn us back, I'll kill you myself," Arthur spits at him. Merlin backs away again, keeping one paw above the ground just in case he has to run.

"Arthur, don't be so stupid," Morgana admonishes him, sitting next to Gwen. "Of course you wouldn't kill Merlin."

"I would," Arthur insists. Merlin decides to hide in Morgana's skirt. There's a spot where the fabric gathers between her crossed legs, and he crouches there.

"You even try and I'll poison your meat," Morgana warns. Merlin peers around her knee.

Arthur takes a swipe at the tree root, claws extended. "Fine," he says at last, voice tight. "_Fine_. I won't kill Merlin."

Morgana's hand finds Merlin's head and strokes it gently. "See? You can come out now."

"I don't believe him," Merlin says, nervously. "He has _claws_."

"So do something about it," Morgana says, nudging him gently. "Wait! I have an idea."

Gwen turns to her. "Is it the same one I just had?" she asks. Morgana smiles at her. Merlin hauls himself up to perch on her knee, watching the two of them.

"Well," Morgana's still smiling as she speaks, "it was the threat of death that made them like this –"

"So maybe –" Gwen chimes in.

Merlin feels something land on his back, realises it's Arthur and that he's really not going to stick to his promise, and shuts his eyes, heart pounding, body contracting, every nerve singing with adrenaline. Sheer panic.

"There, see?" Morgana laughs, Merlin can hear it. He can _hear_. Maybe he isn't dead after all.

He opens his eyes. His hands are human hands, but – but he has four of them. No! Two of them are Arthur's. He lifts his head, awareness of his body floods back to him, and – oh. He and Arthur are naked and pressed together and _naked_ and – Merlin folds his body inwards. Unfortunately, that pushes him further into the curve of Arthur.

"Thought that'd work," Arthur says against his ear. Not quite so angry now; just low enough to be almost a growl, just calm enough not to indicate danger. Merlin whimpers.

"Should we leave you two alone?" The laugh hasn't quite left Morgana's voice.

Arthur sits up, and Merlin feels cold. "I have no idea what you mean by that." Arthur holds a hand out. "My clothes, Guinevere."

"Say please," Morgana instructs, one hand keeping Gwen's in her lap.

Arthur tilts his head. "Please," he says, deliberately. Merlin is trying very hard to be a small ball of nothing, sinking into the ground. He feels it when Arthur sits up, puts his clothes on, can tell he's using Merlin's body to shield certain things from view. Merlin's heart rate is having a hard time calming down.

"Um, and um – and mine, please," he says, eyes shut so he doesn't have to see any of them, legs tucked up to his chest. He feels cloth pressed into his hands, and opens his eyes to fumble on shirt and trousers and boots and jacket and scarf and belt. Morgana's eyes are dancing with light, and Gwen's trying to hide a smile. "I suppose I should leave," he says, heart still not quite back to normal.

"Yes, we should all be getting back," Arthur replies. He stands up, and offers a hand to Merlin.

He looks up. "But – aren't you angry with me? You were going to kill me a minute ago, and –"

"That was before you fixed it," Arthur states, stretching his hand further. "Now get up."

Merlin takes his hand, palm tingling, and stands. "Erm. Look, I'm – I'm really sorry I didn't tell you. All of you." He looks at Morgana, at Gwen, back to Arthur. "I wanted to. I just –"

"You don't have to explain," Gwen tells him. "Not to me." She does look hurt, though.

"I would have told you, I _would_ have, only – only I just. Couldn't tell anyone." He drops his eyes. "I'm so sorry."

"That's quite enough of that. We should be getting back to the castle, the sun will be setting soon." Arthur takes his sword from Morgana and sheaths it. Gwen and Morgana start back to the castle with him, but Merlin stays put for a minute. Arthur turns. "Are you coming?" he calls, impatient, and why hasn't anything changed?

"Yes," Merlin calls back, and jogs to catch up.

"So where did you learn it?" Morgana asks, voice even, as they find the path. "The magic, I mean. Someone in Ealdor?"

"No. I was born like this." Merlin concentrates on the ground, one foot in front of the other. "I can't help it." He risks a glance up at Arthur, whose eyes are on him. Merlin looks back down.

"And you didn't think to say anything before now?" he asks. His voice is controlled, and Merlin can't tell whether he's hurt or angry or disappointed or what.

"I don't particularly want to get my head chopped off, or be burned at the stake," Merlin mumbles to the leaves on the path.

"Oh, right, because we'd turn you in," Arthur scoffs. Merlin has to look up at that.

"How was I to _know_? You're the King's son, _you're_ the King's ward, and I didn't want to get you in any trouble," the last to Gwen, swallowing guilt. "You know how Uther feels about anyone who even looks at someone who might possibly be practicing magic."

"You really ought to be more careful," Arthur tells him, shaking his head. "I've heard you muttering things, sometimes, and then something moves, or – something else strange happens. You always seem to know when something magical is going on." He looks thoughtful. "In future, come to me with those sorts of things and no one else. We can't have you looking like you know too much about it."

Merlin's chest feels lighter, and tighter at the same time. "You mean you'd – you're okay with this? You won't turn me in?"

Gwen takes his arm. "I won't. I know what it's like, waiting to be executed for using magic, and I won't let that happen to you."

Morgana takes his other arm. "I agree. Nothing will happen to you while we're around."

Merlin looks hopefully at Arthur, who shakes his head in exasperation. "You really are an idiot," he says, and Merlin takes that to mean that he has Arthur's protection. He feels properly light now, like he might just float away if he didn't have a friend on each arm.

Morgana and Gwen head to Morgana's chambers when they get back to the castle, and Arthur leads Merlin up to his. "I need you to clean my boots," he says, stepping out of them, "the woods got them muddy."

"Yes, sire." He's finding it difficult not to beam so hard his face could crack in two. He takes the boots into a corner, grabs a brush, and begins getting the mud off them.

"Did you really think I'd mind?" Arthur asks, when Merlin has finished one boot and is starting on the next.

"What?" He looks up. "Well – I mean, you always seemed to … you know, follow Uther's orders and … believe all that stuff about magic users."

"I don't mean that," Arthur says. "Though I do think my father has a point about magic being used for evil, there does seem to be a lot of that about. But perhaps magic is not used entirely for evil by all who use it."

"Exactly," Merlin nods. "But – how did you know I've never used magic for evil?"

"You have a thousand opportunities to kill me every day, and besides. You're just not the type." Arthur shrugs.

"You trust me," Merlin says. He's asking for clarification.

"Yes." Such a simple answer, given so matter-of-factly. Merlin has to turn back to the boots to hide his smile. "It wasn't the magic," Arthur reminds him. "What I meant was, did you really think I mind that you find me attractive?"

"What?" Merlin gapes, head snapping back up. "I don't – _attractive_, what are you – oh please, as if I would –"

"There's no need to be embarrassed, Merlin." Arthur begins lounging. Smugly. "Plenty of people find me attractive."

"Well, I don't," Merlin says, hoping he isn't blushing.

"Then why have you gone red?" Arthur asks, triumphant.

"I haven't," Merlin tries. It's futile, he knows it is, but he doesn't care. "I don't find you attractive, and I don't know what you're talking about."

Arthur crosses the room, hauls him up by the shoulders, turns and backs him into the nearest wall. Merlin's breath catches in his throat. "What are you –" he starts.

"Do you mean to tell me," Arthur's breath ghosts across his face; Merlin fights the urge to slide his eyes closed, "that you wouldn't respond at all, if I did this?" He inches his body, slowly, carefully, closer and closer to Merlin's, eyes fixed on Merlin's mouth, leaning in slightly to brush his nose against Merlin's cheek.

"That's not fair," Merlin breathes. It comes out in fits and starts.

"No," Arthur agrees, gently pressing one leg to the inside of Merlin's thigh, "it's not."

A tiny sound escapes Merlin's throat. He can feel blood rushing all over his body; his ears are throbbing slightly, his face feels hot, and he is _definitely_ responding favourably. He starts to shake.

"I thought so," Arthur whispers, mouth _so close_ to Merlin's cheek. He moves away, completely away, stepping back from the wall. Merlin slumps, knees giving out, until he hits the floor and just sits there, crumpled. Arthur regards him, face unreadable. "Well," he says to himself.

"I can go," Merlin tries to say, without sound.

"No. Stay." It's a command, Merlin can tell that, but a curiously gentle one. Arthur turns, walks back over to his chair, sits down. "Come here."

Merlin forces his legs to work. He makes it all the way over to Arthur's chair, but when he gets there and sees the look in Arthur's eyes, he has to prop himself up against the table.

Arthur stands, moves closer, and kisses him fiercely. Merlin responds immediately, matching his pace, grasping at his hair and his shirt, feeling Arthur's hands on his hips. After a little while (Merlin has no concept of time by this point, and is losing great swathes of knowledge as his brain shuts down a piece at a time) of kissing like this, frantic, Arthur wraps one arm around Merlin's back and pulls him in closer, and Merlin closes his arms around Arthur's back and they slot perfectly together. A blade in a sheath, the thought of which makes him shiver. He makes small noises, Arthur's tongue in his mouth.

A knock on the door breaks them apart. Arthur pulls his shirt down and rearranges his hair, Merlin hastily doing the same. "Come in," Arthur calls, and Merlin darts back to the corner where he was cleaning boots.

Sir Leon opens the door. "My lord, the King requires your presence."

"Of course. Merlin, we shall continue this at a later time. Make sure my table is ready when I return."

Merlin swallows, watching him leave. "Yes, sire."


End file.
